The Lightstone: The Ninth Kingdom: Part One

‘Given the spirit of the agreement, it’s only the way to think.’

‘There are many ways of thinking,’ my father said, ‘and we’re here tonight to determine what is most fair.’

‘You speak of fairness?’ Salmelu half-shouted. ‘You who keep the richest lands of the Morning Mountains for yourselves? You who kept the Lightstone locked in your castle for an entire age when all the Valari should have shared in its possession?’

Some of what he said was true. After the Battle of Sarburn, when the combined might of the Valari had overthrown Morjin and he had been imprisoned in a great fortress on the Isle of Damoom, Aramesh had brought the Lightstone back to Silvassu. And it had resided in my family’s castle for most of the Age of Law. But it had never been locked away. I turned to look at the white granite pedestal against the banner-covered wall behind my father’s chair. There, on this dusty, old stand, now dark and empty, the Lightstone had sat in plain view for nearly three thousand years.

‘All the Valari did share of its radiance,’ my father told Salmelu. ‘Although it was deemed unwise to move it about among the kingdoms, our castle was always open to any and all who came to see it. Especially to the Ishkans.’

‘Yes, and we had to enter your castle as beggars hoping for a glimpse of gold.’

‘Is that why you invaded our lands with no formal declaration and tried to steal the Lightstone from us? If not for the valor of King Yaravar at the Raaswash, who knows how many would have been killed?’

At this, Salmelu’s small mouth set tightly with anger. Then he said, ‘You speak of warriors being killed? As your people killed Elsu Maruth, who was a very great king.’

Although my father kept his face calm, his eyes flashed with fire as he said, ‘Was he a greater king than Elkasar Elahad, whom you killed at the Diamond River twelve years ago?’

At the mention of my grandfather’s name, I stared at Salmelu and the flames of vengeance began eating at me, too.

‘Warriors die,’ Salmelu said, shrugging off my father’s grief with an air of unconcern. ‘And warriors kill – as King Elkamesh killed my uncle, Lord Dorje. Duels are duels, and war is war.’

‘War is war, as you say,’ my father told Salmelu. ‘And murder is murder, is it not?’

Salmelu’s hand moved an inch closer to the hilt of his sword as his fingers began to twitch. Then he called out, ‘Do you make an accusation, King Shamesh?’

‘An accusation?’ my father said. ‘No, merely a statement of truth. There are some who say that my father’s death was planned and call it murder. But you’ll never hear me say this. War is war, and even kings are killed on the field of battle. No matter the intent, this can’t be called murder. But the hunting of a king’s son in his own woods – that is murder.’

For a long time, perhaps as many as twenty beats of my racing heart, my father sat staring at Salmelu. His eyes were like bright swords cutting away at Salmelu’s outward hauteur to reveal the man within. And Salmelu stared at him: with defiance and a jealous hatred coloring his face. While this duel of the eyes took place before hundreds of men and women stunned into silence, I noticed Asaru exchange a brief look with Ravar. Then Asaru nodded toward a groom standing off to the side of the hall near the door that led to the kitchens. The groom bowed back and disappeared through the doorway. And Asaru stood up from the table, causing Salmelu to break eyes with my father and look at him instead.

‘My lords and ladies,’ Asaru called out to the room, ‘it has come to my attention that the cooks have finally prepared a proper ending to the feast. If you’ll abide with me a moment, they have a surprise for you.’

Now my father looked at Asaru with puzzlement furrowing his forehead. As did Lord Harsha, Count Dario, Lord Tomavar, and many others.

‘But what does all this have to do with murder?’ Salmelu demanded.

And Asaru replied, ‘Only this: that all this talk of killing and murder must have made everyone hungry again. It wouldn’t do to end a feast with everyone still hungry.’

Upon these curious words, the doors to the kitchen opened, and four grooms wheeled out one of the great serving carts usually reserved for the display of whole roasted boars or other large game. It seemed that one knight or another must have indeed speared a boar earlier that day in the woods, for a voluminous white cloth was draped over what appeared to be the largest of boars. Apparently it had taken all these many hours to finish cooking. The grooms wheeled the cart right out toward the front of the room, where they left it sitting just in front of the Ishkans’ table.

‘Is that really a boar?’ I heard Maram ask one of the grooms. ‘I haven’t had a taste of a good boar in two years.’

Despite himself, he licked his lips in anticipation of this most succulent of meats. How anyone could still be hungry after all the food consumed earlier, I didn’t know. But if any man could, Maram was certainly that man, and he eyed the bulging white cloth along with Master Tadeo and everyone else in the room.

Asaru came down from the dais and stepped over to the serving cart. He looked straight into Salmelu’s troubled eyes. And then, with a flourish I hadn’t known he possessed, he reached down and whisked the cloth away from the cart.

‘Oh, my Lord!’ Maram gasped out. ‘Oh, Lord, Lord, Lord!’

All at once, many others gasped out with him in astonishment as they stared at the cart. For there, laid out on its bloodstained boards, was the body of the assassin that I had killed in the woods.

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The man’s face, I saw, was livid with the darkness of death. Although his eyes remained as I had closed them, no one had thought to change his dirty tunic, which was still moist with the blood that I had spilled.

‘What is this?’ Salmelu cried out, jumping to his feet. He rushed over to Asaru and stood facing him across the assassin’s body. ‘Who is this man? Are you saying that I murdered him?’

‘No,’ Asaru said, glancing up at me, ‘no one will say that.’

‘But who is he?’

‘That we would all like to know,’ Asaru said, looking first at my father and then out into the hall.

Salmelu flicked his hand toward the cart. ‘But what did you mean by saying it wouldn’t do to end a feast with everyone still hungry? This is no way to end a feast.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Asaru agreed. ‘Not with all of us still hungry for the truth.’

I thought that my father had no knowledge of this ugly surprise that had been presented to his guests. It had all the markings of something that Asaru and Ravar had cooked up together, so to speak. But my father immediately saw their purpose. And so did I. With his bright eyes glistening, he looked out into the hall to see if anyone might give a sign that he recognized the assassin. I looked too, but with a sense deeper than that of sight. I thought I might detect the pangs of guilt or grief emanating from some knight who would prove to be the second assassin. But all I could feel was a great, spreading wave of revulsion that made me sick.

As all looked upon Asaru, he began telling of how two hooded men had tried to murder him in his father’s own forest. Although he gave a full account of my killing the man upon the cart, it was obvious that he still believed the first assassin’s arrow had been meant for him.

‘If anyone present knows this man,’ he said, pointing at the dead assassin, ‘will he speak and tell us who he is?’

Of course, Asaru must have thought that no one would speak at all. So he was as surprised as everyone else when Count Dario suddenly rose and walked over to the cart.

‘I know this man,’ he announced, looking at the body. ‘His name is Raldu. He joined our party in Ishka, just after we had crossed the Aru River.’

The other emissaries at the Alonian table, including two named Baron Telek and Lord Mingan, all looked at each other and nodded their heads in affirmation of what Count Dario had said.

‘But who is he?’ Asaru asked Count Dario. ‘And how is it that emissaries of a great king came to share fellowship with a murderer?’

Count Dario stood pulling at his bristly red chin hairs; then he fingered the golden wand of the caduceus emblazoned on his blue tunic. He was a cool-headed man, I thought, and he evinced not the slightest sign that my brother’s questions had insulted him.

‘I do not know if this man has a name other than Raldu,’ he said in a calm, measured voice. ‘And so I cannot say who he truly is. He said that he was a knight of Galda who fled that land when it fell to the Lord of Lies. He said that he had been wandering among the kingdoms in hope of finding a way to fight him. When he learned the nature of our mission, he asked to join us. He seemed greatly excited at the prospect of the Lightstone being recovered. As we all are. I apologize that I let this excitement fan the flames of my own. My enthusiasm obviously overwhelmed my judgment. Perhaps I should have questioned him more closely.’

‘Perhaps you should have,’ Asaru said, touching his hair where the arrow had burned through it.

At this my father looked at him sternly. And then, to Count Dario, he said, ‘It was not upon you to seek out the secrets of this Raldu’s heart. He joined you as a free companion only, not as a servant, and so you can’t be held responsible for his actions.’

‘Thank you, King Shamesh,’ Count Dario said, bowing.

My father bowed back to him, then continued, ‘But we must ask you to search your memory deeply now. Did Raldu ever speak against myself or my house? Did he form any close associations with your other companions? Or with anyone while you were in Ishka? Did he ever say anything to indicate who his true lord might be?’

Count Dario moved back over to his table where he conferred with his countrymen for a while. Then he looked up at the King and said, ‘No, none of us had cause to suspect him. On the journey through Ishka, he kept to himself and comported himself well at all times.’

So, I thought, if Count Dario spoke truly, Raldu had used the emissaries as cover to enter Mesh from Ishka. And then used the hunt as an opportunity to try to murder me.

‘So, then,’ my father said, as if echoing my thoughts, ‘it’s clear how Raldu found his way into Mesh. But what was he doing in Ishka? Is it possible that the Ishkans had no knowledge of this man’s presence?’

My father turned to look at Salmelu then. And Salmelu looked back at him as his hand touched his sword and he snarled out, ‘If you think to accuse us of hiring assassins to accomplish what good Ishkan steel has always done quite well, then perhaps we should add that to the list of grievances that only battle can address.’